


Playing Detective

by speckledhound



Series: Of Pirates and Soldiers [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Birthday Presents, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Games, Gen, Kid Fic, Kid John, Kid Sherlock, Kidlock, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speckledhound/pseuds/speckledhound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Sherlock has come down with a cold on his birthday, and it is up to his friend John to help him get plenty of rest and keep him entertained.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Detective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwisterMelody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwisterMelody/gifts).



The little blonde boy teetered carefully into the bedroom, cautiously holding onto a bowl of steaming hot soup. He avoided tripping over the clutter of pirate playthings and menagerie of plush toys, and made his way to the bedside table and set down the soup.

“Sherlock!” The little boy cried, happily hopping up onto the bed, causing the napping boy snuggled in a warm cocoon of sheets and blankets to stir.

“Your mummy says that once you get better, we can play soldiers and pirates again. So…so, you better hurry up and get better soon.” 

Sherlock stirred under the covers once more and sat up, sniffling and wiping his nose on the arm of his pajamas. He pushed aside a bunch of dark messy curls out of his face and looked upon his friend with bright blue eyes.

“We can’t play ever again John,” he declared matter-of-factually. "I’m never going to get better. I’ve accepted it.” And with that, he hid under the covers. John tilted his head and looked curiously at the lump on the bed.

“You can’t be like that. I know its your birthday, and no one wants to be stuck in bed with a cold on their birthday. We can still find a way to have fun.”

A moment of silence, then Sherlock peered out from under the covers.

“How so?”

John broke out into his white sparkling grin. 

“We can play a game.”

“Dull. Games are dull. All the other children play games. Mummy says I’m not like the other children. Although I do like pirate games. And experiment games. I rather like doing experiments.”

Sherlock began getting out of bed until John playfully lunged at him, pinning him back down onto the mattress and flinging his arm across his chest to restrict further attempts at movement.

“No!” John protested, curling up against his best friend and placing his head upon his chest. “Your mummy said I have to take care of you. I like taking care of you. And I’m not going to let you get up and move around, because sick people need to rest.”

John then lifted his head and observed the contents of the room. He got up and fetched a book from a stack in the corner, where Sherlock had a growing pile of books beyond his age group that proved him no trouble. 

“Look,” said John, his voice full of childlike wonder. He showed the book to Sherlock, opening it up. 

“My mystery book,” managed Sherlock’s stuffy voice as he reached for a tissue from his bedside table to blow his nose.

“We can play detective even if you’re still in bed!” 

A spark of interest appeared in Sherlock’s eyes, and he examined the page John had opened the book to that depicted 19th century private investigators in funny clothes. 

“First we need to get you a disguise. Even if we are playing pretend you have to be dressed for the part, don’t you? You stay right there, I’ll get your big brother to help us.”

And with that he was off, running down the hallway and stopping in front of Mycroft Holmes’s bedroom door, where he was hunched over a textbook and scribbling away on a piece of paper. The 14-year old boy turned to glare at him.

“Shouldn’t you be quiet? How loud can you possibly be, Sherlock isn’t even up to being his usual obnoxiously loud self. I’m trying to get some work done here, if you two hooligans don’t mind. Mummy is trying to do work downstairs too, do you want her to come up here and scold you?”

“Have you got a hat and coat?” John asked him, ignoring all of Mycroft’s previous comments.

“What?”

“I said have you got a hat and coat. Sherlock and I are going to play a detective game. I’m going to have him try to guess what I got him for his birthday, and I want him to have a costume like the men in his book.”

Mycroft sighed. Despite his bitter attitude towards fun and games, he did still care for his little brother. 

He disappeared for a few minutes, instructing John to stay where he was. He returned holding his father’s hunting cap from when he used to go deer-hunting, along with a coat much too big for Sherlock’s shoulders. 

“Here you are,” he said, handing the items to John. “Make sure they are returned in one piece. Don’t let the little madman do any tests on them or anything.”

John gladly accepted the pieces to Sherlock’s detective costume and bounded back down the hall, hearing Mycroft sigh as he left, probably because of the noise, and, the fact that John was dragging the coat along the wooden floor. 

“Sherlock, look.” John laid the things out on the bed and helped his friend into the overly large coat. He smiled as Sherlock placed the deerstalker upon his head.

“Right. Now we’re going to play a game. I have a gift for you for your birthday but you have to find out what it is. You have to be a detective though. I hid it in your room somewhere while you were sleeping. If you’re up to it you can get up and walk around, and you can ask me questions and figure things out. It’ll be like you’re an actual detective.”

Sherlock sat up, suddenly full of energy. This seemed like a fun game to him. He liked any situation where he got to demonstrate his intellect, which he knew was superior to that of all the other kids at his private school. 

“Oh, alright, I’ll play your game.” 

He stood up and looked around. 

“Where do I begin?”

“Okay. Here’s the first clue: this clue is about what kind of thing it is, ready? My present isn’t something that you can play with. Er- at least, other children. You could probably find a way.”

Sherlock twitched his nose.

“Is it sciencey, then?”

“Yes. I suppose.”

“Hmmm.”

He walked around the room, the coat dragging on the floor with his steps. A couple of times he almost tripped because of the excess of fabric. 

The boy drummed his fingers against his chin, looking rather grown-up.

“Another clue. Then I’ll find it, just you wait.”

John smirked at Sherlock’s confidence. 

“Okay. It's something that I found out in the countryside on a trip. It’s not something I bought. It’s not dirty though, I had my mummy clean it and everything.”

This drew a significantly longer ‘hmmmm’ from Sherlock’s throat.

He walked over to a part of his room that he had been eying.

“The equipment has been moved here..” He remarked, running his hand over the microscope that sat among other scientific objects. It was not a play microscope. He had insisted mummy buy him a real one. 

“AHA!” He clapped his hands together, throwing a small blanket off of an obvious lump amongst his science equipment. He held up his find in triumph. 

“Oh John,” he exclaimed, no longer showing any evidence of feeling unwell, though he paused to wipe his nose again. “It’s perfect, I love it. Thank you thank you thank you.”

John grinned as Sherlock put down his present and was taken into a hug.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it! I love it, its perfect. It’s exactly what I needed to begin a collection.”

He set the cattle skull down upon his bed.

“Happy birthday, Sherlock. You’re my best friend in the entire world, and I don’t care what anybody says, you’re really smart and I hope we’ll be best friends forever.”

Sherlock hugged John again, grateful for him and his friendship, although he always found it hard to express it. He hoped John Watson would be his friend forever, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at writing fanfiction, and I hope you enjoyed! I wrote this as a gift for my friend Amber's 21st birthday. This is the first of a series of kidlock fics I plan on doing. Thanks for reading!


End file.
